


There's a thin line between Heaven and Hell (and Lance may or may not have destroyed it)

by Kirishimama



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Galra Keith (Voltron), Humor, M/M, Now featuring Naked Keith and Shook Lance™, Shit use of in-bracket dialogue(?), Swearing is most likely to be found in this fic, angst is tagged but this is mostly crack i guess, but not in the way you think ohohoho, klance, lance probably burnt that too lmao, modernverse, oh yeah right, plot is somewhere, quite generously and humorously if i do say so myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9898481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirishimama/pseuds/Kirishimama
Summary: "So you're trying to tell me," Lance slowly spoke, bewildered at what this... creature(?) was suggesting, "that I summoned you-" he paused to take a breath, "with mymicrowave?"They nodded.Lance let out a strangled scream.





	1. Chapter 1

Lance very much liked to believe that he was a sensible and mature 23 year old. (Pidge would firmly deny that, but whatever.)

He went in to work on time(if barely), didn't litter, gave up his seats to the elderly, and was just a relatively nice human being. (Ok, so he didn't give money he blatantly had to a homeless person when asked; but he digresses.)

Lance... Lance had his days.

Usually, he was up and about by 8am dancing around his one-bed apartment doing god knows what, but today had a fuck-it feel to it that had him rolling out of bed at midday.

Not only has he got no work today(bless), but it also happened to fall on a  _Friday._

Fridays, in Lance' mind, were days that had him being a lazy ass and not doing anything but lounging around in his pyjamas.

It meant fuck wiping up that bit of juice he spilt on the kitchen counter only 5 minutes ago, and _wow_ look at that pile of clothes he was _not washing_. (It also meant he definitely wasn't going to cook. Which brings us to his current dilemma of what to eat.)

During this particular olympic event, there were generally four options for him to decide from concerning food.

Option one was the preferred and much used course of action that involved calling The Chef™(AKA Hunk Garrett, that beautiful boy) and getting him to cook for Lance.

The second option was there just for aesthetics. (Going out to eat defeated the purpose of lazing about in his wrinkled, blue starred pajamas that were actually giving off a funky smell now that he payed attention to th-)

Option three was to order.... but that was a complete no-go. (He was as broke as that glass he smashed the other day; which was to say he had a lot of no money.)

The fourth and final option was to scour the fridge for a ready meal that was probably nearing its sell by date.

Seeing as Hunk was still at work, even though he was supposed to have finished three hours ago at four(Lance is just _waiting_ for the phone call asking him to come help out), the first option was figuratively thrown out the window.

With that in mind, and the lack of finances, Lance could see how his sudden list of four options were quickly becoming just _one_.

Ready meal it was. (He would've gone with ramen noodles if he hadn't already eaten his last two packets earlier this afternoon.)

Just to reiterate. _Lance very much liked to believe that he was a sensible and mature 23 year old._

So when he accidentally set his microwave on fire(an exaggeration, really) and his first reaction was to, _maybe_ , chuck the burnt and bubbling meal out the already-open window; he thought that he might just not be as responsible and mature as he originally liked to believe. (He never actually did- but what the _hell,_ someone had to prove Pidge wrong.)

After spending about five seconds staring at the product of his stupidity, he yanked his head back in, let out a quiet 'what the shit, Lance', and grabbed a tea-towel lying about to attempt to fan the burnt smelling microwave out the window(so the distinct smell would _not_ waft into the apartment halls and alert anybody of his failings at living successfully by himself that any person his age should be capable of. Apparently).

In _his_ eyes, he thought he did a good job of covering up the little incident(he may have febrezed that shit).

Except, he was very sure that the dark purple(fucking _purple_ ) smoke billowing out from the still-open microwave was, in fact, not from the food tossed out the window and splattered on some patch of grass, but probably the man now standing in front of him.

Lance wished he could say that the yelp that left his mouth was from the fact that there was an unknown(and very, _very_ naked) man standing with hunched shoulders in his kitchen; but no. It was because despite the absolutely brilliant physique of said man, he could recognise that god damn mullet _anywhere_.

Which raises the question as to why  _Keith-shitting-Kogane_ was in his kitchen with nothing but his birthday suit on.

(And Lance probably spent a bit too much time staring, if that glare was anything to go by.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIII! Sorry for the huuge super late update(fuck me in the ass it took me so long to edit this chapter ahhhh)
> 
> ANYWAYS ENJOY! YES AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR COMMENTS!!!
> 
> Also, I apologise for any shit content.

_Well_  -he squinted- _he thought it was Keith..?_

Because that purple tinted skin and those golden eyes(Did he even have any _pupils_?) were  _not_ what he remembered his self-proclaimed rival to have. (He definitely would've remembered those little details that made the man look not-as-human-as-Lance-thought-he-was.)

Also, he was pretty sure his ears were bigger(much bigger; holy _shit_ ) and looked fuzzier than normal.

And just because Lance was a cheeky brat who's mouth was definitely going to get him in trouble one day, he couldn't help but comment on purple-Keith's swanky look.

"As flattered as I am," Lance scratched his cheek with a crooked smirk. "I'm not a furry, so..." he trailed off, breaking eye contact lest he lose his composure and, honestly, just lose it completely.

(He absolutely did _not_ look down, so there was no way for him to see how fucking _hung_ -)

A tense silence filled the air, and Lance just couldn't help himself(again).

"Actually, before you go-" he paused to bring a his fist up to his cheek "could you do this-" slowly flicked his wrist, "and say 'nyah'?"

Purple-Keith just _looked_ at him. (Lance wouldn't be surprised if he made a pitstop at Hunk's or Pidges place before coming here if that godforsaken _look_ was anything to go by.)

Lance opened his mouth to, most likely, make some kind of comment just because he fuckin' could(honestly; it was either say something or fart), when-

"Who are you, and what the _fuck_ am I doing here?"

Apart from the indignant squawk that left his mouth, and the faint feeling of being offended that _'_ _Keith' didn't recognise him;_  Lance didn't seem to have the chance to reply when his phone decided it was the perfect time to ring in that shrill tone of its.

 _Not shrill_ , he thinks, recognising the familiar tune of 'just keep swimming' on repeat which means it's undoubtedly Hunk calling him. (Get it? Dory; Hunky-dory? He impresses himself too much sometimes.)

Lance abruptly turned around, choosing as of this moment to ignore the problem in the form of Keith-not-Keith, and stumbled his way into the small living room to nab his phone where he remembered seeing it last; squished between two couch cushions.

As if suddenly remembering his unwanted guest, he sourly sent a quick 'i'm watching you' look at the purple man over his shoulder, before he answered the call.

_"Lance?"_

Tension he couldn't remeber having, left his body at the familiar voice and a grin wormed its way onto his lips. "The one and only!"

 _"Oh, good."_ He heard Hunk sigh in relief, and he took note of the banging pots and muffled shouting going on in the background to discern that Hunk was calling him from work. _"Listen, buddy, I'm gonna need your help today-"_

"Say no more," he interrupted, already knowing what Hunk was getting at and nearly diving head first into that clothes pile he refused to wash, for a pair of socks.

_"-and I know today's your lazy day, but we really need you and I know you haven't eaten so-"_

"HUNK!" He yelled, awkwardly angling the phone so it sat between his jaw and shoulder, "I get it, man." He let out a silent 'ah ha!' when he found a matching pair. "I'll be there in ten minutes!"

He balanced his ass on the arm of his couch so he could put his socks on(the very same socks he stupidly sniffed and promptly gagged at).

 _"Oh my god-"_ Hunk's voice faded for a bit and Lance knew he was just relaying the message to his dad. _"You're a lifesaver, Lance!"_

He lightly cleared his throat, stood up and flicked his imaginary long hair over his shoulder. "I am, aren't I?"

 _"Ok, that hair flick was called for."_ Hunk snickered.

Lance chuckled under his breath and did not, for one second, puzzle at how Hunk knew he did that, and instead focused on walking towards his bedroom to change clothes.... and maybe use a wipe or two (because as much as he could totally rock his pajamas, their smell, he could not).

_"And I know you, dude. No doubt are you gonna get distracted by something-"_

"Excuse me?"

_"-so just get here before eight, ok?"_

Lance quickly pulled his phone away from his ear, clicked the screen to see the time- 7:13pm it read- and tut. "Have ye little faith in me?" He said as soon as the device touched his ear again.

There were a few seconds of silence before intervals of 'crrk!' and 'scchh' noises sounded in his ear.

_"Sorry, Lance! You're breaking up!"_

He brought his phone away from his ear to stare at it in pure shock and utter _betrayal_.

He narrowed his eyes and slammed the device back onto his ear to hiss, "Are you fucking serious, Hu-"

_"I've gotta go now! Bye!"_

At hearing the dial-tone, Lance made a very manly screech and chucked the phone onto his unmade bed.

" _Traitor_ ," he scoffed, narrowing his eyes at his dresser and lifting lithe fingers to unbutton his top.

"What are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Hunk needs some help at his family's restaurant-" he froze in his ministrations and his eyes widened in shock.

" _HOLY_ -!" Lance choked on his own yelp, and whipped around to face the intruder standing in the doorway.

"No, I'm not." They snickered under their breath.

"D- _Dude_!" He spluttered, "You can't _do_ that!" He clutched his frantically beating heart and glared at who he now identified as purple-Keith. The same purple-Keith he remembers telling to stay _right in the fucking kitchen._

"Do what?" Purple-Keith asked, honestly confused as he blinked at Lance(and like shit was he ever going to get used to that third eyelid).

He, himself, didn't really know what he was getting at(it was purple-Keith scaring him) and so he settled for using purple-Keith's( _that name is getting old now, Lance_ ) barest of the bare body as an excuse.

Lance made a highly pained noise, looked up at his star covered ceiling, and shook his hands in purple-Keith's general direction. " _That_!"

If anything, purple-Keith looked even more confused.

"Just," Lance sighed, "Put some clothes on or somethin'..." He ran a tired hand down his face and turned back around to finish getting changed.

(If Lance had been looking at purple-Keith than he would've noticed the _full body flush_  that covered his skin when being called out on his bareness.)

He popped his head through the collar of a plain white t-shirt that might have a ketchup stain on the hem- but who gives a flying fuck? Not Lance, that's who.

He snorted to himself and grabbed some jeans he was certain had a ripped hole somewhere on his ass cheek, so he made sure to grab the brightest pair of fitted boxers that he could find(they were, of course, a neon green pair with flying yellow saucers on them that he just _knew_ Pidge was the source of).

Lance shut the draw with an amused twitch of his lips, and shuffled out of his bedroom.

"Wait." He stopped in the empty hallway, and _that_ was the problem. "Where's purple-Keith?"

"I'm right here."

He did _not_ jump, no sir-ey(ha. Say that to your clothes on the floor, McClain). Also, what was he doing just strolling out of Lance' bathroom?

"I-I knew that!" (And he did _not_ bend down to scoop up his jeans and underwear laying by his feet.)

Purple-Keith raised a singular, mocking eyebrow. "Sure." And Lance watched(slightly enamoured- _fuck_ ) as he crossed his arms across his clothed chest.

Wait, _what_ -

"How do you know my name?"

Yeah, whatever. Lance didn't care about that right now because when in the fuck and how in the fuck did purple-Keith get those clothes? (But could they really be called clothes? Because it looked like a second skin.)

Lance was not going to complain. It hurt him enough to even suggest purple-Keith wear clothes(but hey he had to look like a decent human being), so he avoided looking at purple-Keith and his matching dark, skintight suit lest he make a comment and the man change.

" _Hey_. Are you going to answer my question or what?"

And he wouldn't be Lance if he didn't think of replying with 'or what', but purple-Keith's question rang in his head before he opened his mouth. 

(Shit. Was purple-Keith his actual name? Lance feels a bit guilty now.)

"Wow. So- do you have a surname or?" He inquired with a curious look at the mans slightly flustered face. ( _Well_ , he thought,  _that scattering of indigo on his cheeks was not there a minute ago_.)

".... Kogane." Came the reluctant reply.

"Cool." Lance blinked, registering the name in his head, and his tongue poked out between his lips. "No, that can't be right."

"Can't be right-?" Purple-Keith echoed, "It's my _name_ ," he flatly drawled.

"But, like-" Lance lamely replied, "Can't you be more original?" He shifted to rest his clothes in the crook of an elbow. "I already know a Keith Kogane- and now you're saying you're _purple_ -Keith Kogane?"

Said mans face flared up in what Lance assumes to be embarrassment. (That indigo shade was back, and it was quite endearing if Lance did say so himself.)

"W-What?"

He snorted. "Come _on_ , man. Seriously."

Purple-Keith cleared his throat, and Lance almost, _almost_ pouted when his flushed cheeks went back to looking normal. "I _am_ Keith Kogane."

Lance blankly stared at him for a few seconds before he gave a firm shake of his head. "No, I'm pretty sure you're not. I'll just keep calling you purple-Keith until you tell me your real name."

The now properly identified Keith Kogane looked at Lance completely bewildered. "The fuck?" He whispered to himself. "I didn't realise you'd be this stupid-"

" _Hey!_ "

He ignored Lance' offended shout. "Where did you even get that name from?"

Lance innocently whistled because he really couldn't answer that question without sounding stupid. "Uh huh good question. So... you're _Keith_ Keith?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Who else would I be?"

Lance shrugged. "Dunno. But the last time I checked, Keith Kogane was human and not purple."

He cringed and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that-"

Lance held up his hand. "Ah, ah, ah. I'm gonna have to stop you there, my man."

Keith sent him a puzzled glare.

"Lazy day rule number one is that I don't have to deal with any problems." Lance stated, pointing at his houseguest, "And you, purple-Keith, are a huge problem. Capital H and trademar-"

"My name is Keith!" He hissed, curling his fists and taking a step forward. " _Just_ Keith."

(Lance snorted because _wow_ did his hair poof up.)

"Right. My bad." Lance nodded, looking not in the least bit remoseful. "My name's Lance McClain; thanks for asking." He sniffed. "Buuut if you're _really_ Keith; I'm sure you already knew that." Lance slyly smirked.

"No."

He blinked. "Excuse me?" (But what he really wanted to say was _how the fuck do you not know my name?_ And, also, maybe as an after thought; _get in my be_ -)

"I _am_ Keith," purple-Keith insists, "but I didn't know your name." 

"H-Huh?" Lance spluttered, gaping at him with what could only be disbelief. "How can you not know the name of your rival!?"

"What." Keith did not know just what the hell was going on in Lance' head, nor did he really want to.

Lance, however, struggled to contain his scream at this idiot of a man. "You know, Lance and Keith; neck and neck!" 

Keith's eyebrows raised, incredulous. "No?"

"We went to the same Uni! Hell, we were in the same _class_!"

"Oh." He blinked and tried to recall if he had ever seen this man before. "Were you like... an assistant?" He asked when he came up empty.

"No!" Lance huffed with an offended air about him. "I was a student-" he paused, and then said, "-top of the class thanks to you dropping out."

"Congratulations...?"

Lance felt his eye twitch at his bland tone, and he promptly looked away from Keith lest he do something like attack him.

Yet, somehow not looking at Keith made his gaze fall upon the clock smartly hung above his front door(yeah ok he might knock it down when he slams the door, but whatever).

By the time the, well, _time_  managed to register itself in his head, a sense of dread had already settled in his stomach.

He groaned.

Lance had spent nearly twenty minutes getting dressed; double the time he promised Hunk, and he wasn't even _dressed_.

"You know what? No. Get out of here already." He shooed with one hand, walking forward and standing in his bathroom's doorway. "Go return to hell."

He heard a scoff and promptly glared over his shoulder at the culprit.

"You think I would still be here if I could?" Keith huffed.

That was not exactly what Lance expected or really wanted to hear. "What?" He croaked.

"You summoned me." Keith sighed, rolling his eyes. "I can't go back until you let me." He admitted a bit sheepishly.

"Right. Summoned." Lance nodded as if this made perfect sense and he actually knew what this man was talking about. "How do I... un-summon you?"

"I don't know."

 _God damn it._ (He was pretty sure he heard someone laughing at him.)

* * *

It wasn't cold, per say; Lance had just overestimated how warm he would be in his signature coat. (Really, it was the only coat he owned.)

" _Shit, shit, shit_." He chanted, teeth chattering as he jogged down the narrow street.

"You're going to freeze."

Oh _yes_. How could he forget about his lovely companion?

"Shut up," Lance hissed, walking _just_ that bit faster, "I don't want to hear anything from a weirdo who breaks into people's homes-" He glared at Keith from under his hoodie, " _naked_."

Keith's purple lookalike spluttered at the implication. "I _told_ you!" He shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Lance. "You _summoned_ me!"

"And how the fuck did I do that, _huh_?!" Lance threw his hands up.

"I don't know!" Keith retorted, suddenly sounding panicked. "Your microwave?" And that should not have sounded as serious as he made it to be.

Lance stopped walking and slapped a hand onto his face as he waited for the punchline. But when none came he cracked open an eye and raised his eyebrows in disbelief at the frown marring Keith's face.

"Y-You're serious?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, unless you can come up with a better reason-? Not like there _is-_ "

Lance easily drowned out what Keith was saying in favour of actually figuring out if his theory had any merit to it.

Summoning Keith's demon(because at this point Lance didn't know what the fuck else he was supposed to be), purple counterpart was not the function of a normal microwave. And the last time he checked, _his_ microwave was a completely normal, if older model, that he got for half price at some mall.

Like, sure after a while some of the buttons started fuckin' up, and today in particular he had to press the button with a faded number six on it at _least_ three times before it worked and-

_Are you shitting him right now?_

"So you're trying to tell me," Lance slowly spoke, bewildered at what Keith was suggesting, "that I summoned you-" he paused to take a breath, "with my _microwave_?"

He nodded.

Lance let out a strangled scream.

* * *

It was 7:51pm, and Lance had just burst through the back door of a certain restaurants kitchen.

"I'm here!" He shouted, slamming the door open with flair( _charisma_ ) that only he could possess. Though when the hustle and bustle from the kitchen carried on like his dramatic entrance never happened; he huffed and slowly shuffled along the wall and into the small staff room to put his waiter's apron on.

It was only when he was tying the second loop of his apron around his waist(#slimleansexgodmachine) that he noticed no one had batted a single eyelash at Keith following behind him doing that weird hover floating thing he does. (And wasn't _that_ a mindfuck when Lance first noticed it. No wonder Keith could creep up on him so well.)

 _Someone's gotta notice..._ He absentmindedly eyed the swinging doors that separated the kitchen from the dining area.

"Get going, Lance!"

He yelped at the shout, and quickly fixed his stance so he didn't drop the twin plates of food suddenly shoved into his hands.

" _Shit_ -!Alright!"

...

 _Something's up_ , He thought, schooling his face into a polite smile as he jotted down another customer's order. 

Lance absentmindedly nodded when he finished taking their orders and tucked the little notepad into his aprons front pockets. A quick glance over to near the restaurants entrance had him pursing his lips in suspicion.

Keith, in all his skintight leather glory, was leant against a pale yellow wall with his arms crossed and such a scowl(pout) on his face that had Lance fighting off a grin.

He jolted in place when Keith's eyes met his, and Lance sent him a small thumbs up that he narrowed his eyes at before averting his gaze.

_Why can no one else see him?_

* * *

"Oh my _god._ " Lance collapsed into the booth opposite Hunk, just about stopping his head from hitting the table by cushioning it against his arms. "I forgot how many customers you guys get." He groaned.

" _Psssh_. Stop acting like such a baby, Lance!" Hunk laughed, "You've been waiting for, like, five years now!"

Lance grunted from his perch in his arms. "Still doesn't stop me from regretting it," he mumbled.

"Uh _huuuh-"_

"Lance!" A deep voice bellowed, interrupting their conversation. "How are you, my boy!"

Lance instantly perked up at the call of his name, eyes glistening at the older man that held plates of food stuffed on his arms. "Garrett-senior!" He greeted, smiling somewhat sheepishly at the man. "I was just telling Hunk here how much I love working as a-"

"Son, you best stop now before you say something you-" Hunk's dad paused, and with a quirk of his lips, said, " _regret_."

Lance let his head hit the table this time.

"Are you gonna eat all of this food?" Keith wondered, sliding into the booth beside Lance and warily staring at the plates carefully balancing on the newcomer's forearms. "Because I'm pretty sure you can't."

Lance sent him a 'fucking watch me' glare when he lifted his head back up. "Is that a chall-"

"What is Sendak's nephew doing here, Hunk?"

A very tense and sudden silence rained over them, and Lance felt Keith tense up beside him almost instantly at the sudden change in atmosphere.

He glanced at him and was surprised to see a shocked look on his face that seemed to be aimed at Hunk's dad. Lance frowned. "Who?"

" _A-AH_!" Hunk nervously interrupted, waving his hands in a disarming manner. "He's cool, Dad!"

The man slowly nodded but still regarded Keith with a hesitant look. "Ok." He reluctantly sighed after a few seconds of silence. "Are you finally telling Lance?" 

Hunk cringed. "Uh... yes?" 

Garrett senior(as named by Lance) nodded at him and carefully deposited their food on the table before leaving to disappear into the kitchen with a wave over his shoulder and 'good luck' aimed at Hunk.

"Woah, woah, _woah_." Lance snapped his fingers from where he sat to get Hunk's attention. "Tell me _what_?" He demanded with a raise of his 'brow. "Have you been hiding something from me, Hunk?"

" _No!_ " He instantly replied. Lance looked at him, unimpressed. "Ok. Maybe? Listen, it's not that big of a deal-"

Lance barked out a shout. "It must be if you haven't _told_ me about it!" He accused, wincing when his hands slammed heavy enough on the table that the salt  & pepper jars shook.

"I'm telling you _now_ , Lance!" Hunk stressed, suddenly sounding very tired as he stared at Lance with a pleading expression.

"Fine." He eventually bit out, if only because he hated seeing Hunk look at him like that. "But you're cooking at my place next week."

Hunk nodded. "Sure thing, buddy." He exhaled as the tension between them seemed to dissipate, and it was then he decided to address a different matter all together. "What's Keith doing here, by the way?" asked Hunk, jerking his chin towards said person. 

"Huh?" Lance intelligently replied, almost exactly the same time Keith mumbled a "How does everyone know my name?" under his breath.

Hunk gave him The Look™ as he dragged a plate towards him and started picking at the food on it.

"Oh, purple-Keith. Right-" Lance nervously laughed, side-eyeing Keith. " _him_."

"Stop fucking calling me that!" He hissed, glaring at Lance and nearly elbowing the man when he rolled his eyes and shoved a bread roll in his mouth.

He swallowed the bite, just short of choking. "Stop being purple then," Lance retorted.

"Purple-?" Hunk suddenly shot up from his seat, ignoring Lance's yell of surprise and Keith's snort of laughter. "You can _see_  that?!" He exclaimed, shaking his hands in Keith's general direction.

"Rude," said person snorted. (He was promptly ignored.)

"Uh, yeah?" Lance raised his eyebrows, twirling the pasta around on his plate. "Hang on." His voice came out muffled behind the fork full of pasta in hid mouth. " _You_ can?"

Hunk slowly nodded and took his place back in his seat. "Yeaaah, uh huh." He took nervous sip of his drink. "But, like-" he coughed when he drank too much too fast, and gently put the glass back down, "can you see him in his... uh-" he fumbled with his wording before he panicked and settled for "-halloween gear?"

Lance looked at him like he grew a second head. "Pretty sure Halloween's in October, Hunk." He side-eyed purple-Keith. "But if you mean those wicked contacts and pair of fuzzy ears he's wearing; then yeah, I can see 'em. Why wouldn't I?"

Hunk stared at him for a couple of seconds before visibly wilting. "Oh, quiznak," he whimpered, shoulders slouched in resignation as he slowly stood up from his seat and turned his back on Lance. "Gimme a sec."

"Mhh," Lance affirmed, gaze trailing over to his unfinished food and licking his lips. "Wait," he suddenly called out, hand freezing just as he reached over the table to nab Hunk's plate. " _What_ -nak?" Because he was pretty sure that word did not exist, unless there was some whole secret language he didn't know about(which, there actually was, Lance; you just _literally_ don't know it).

So it was with a smart remark(what Lance always thinks is a smart remark but in fact dumb and wholly unnecessary oh my _go_ -) on the tip of his tongue, that he realised that; oh. That churning in his stomach was not due to the various foods he'd ingested in the past ten minutes, and from when his best buddy, his pal, and soulmate in all but actuality; had turned back around and - _oh boy_ \- Lance had to blink(rapidly and then rub them. He might've banged his head on the table a little-) to make sure that what he was seeing was, in fact, real.

"What in the-"

His eyes zeroed in on the blunt horns portruding from Hunk's forehead, and Lance could pinpoint _exactly_ when his whole world fell apart.

"Are you going to call me yellow-Hunk now?"

(It was when he heard purple-Keeee-  _god fucking damn it_ \- when he heard  _Keith_ whisper 'nice one' under his breath, along with chortled laughter, and  _this was not happening._ )

What the fuck was his life? (A lie, that's what.)


End file.
